The Difficult Path to Serenity
by riversidewren
Summary: Aramis, still adjusting to life at the monastery, receives an unexpected letter from Constance. Enclosed is a gift from Anne.


**Jessica Pope recently posted a season 3 picture with Aramis wearing something around his neck other than the Queen's crucifix. Speculation about its origins led me to write this one shot.**

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 _ **"Blessed is he, who has learned to bear what he cannot change, and to give up with dignity, what he cannot save."**_

 _ **Friedrich Schiller**_

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Life at the monastery had clear structure and identifiable rhythms, and that suited Aramis, especially in his early days at Douai. The Rule of St. Benedict guided life for the monks, and work and prayer- _ora et labor-_ were the focus of every day.

At the beginning, his mind often wandered back to his last days as a Musketeer. He had vowed to God to dedicate his life to Him if Anne were kept safe, and he meant to honor that promise. However, he keenly felt the loss of his brothers, and the chance of losing all opportunity to ever see his love and their son hurt more than he could have ever imagined.

The day began with Matins, which was prayer at cock-crow, usually around 3 am. Most of the brothers would shuffle into the chapel, eyes heavy with sleep. Aramis, haunted by memories of his former life, slept little, and was usually wide awake. The sharp-eyed abbot, Father Hervé, had seen fit to assign his newest novice the task of leading the chanting of Psalm 95 to begin the service.

When Aramis had been informed of this, he had shook his head. "Surely there are men better qualified than me, Father. I have spent my life as a soldier, not a cantor."

Father Hervé had regarded him intently for a moment, then sighed. "I am not yet convinced that our life is the right one for you, Brother Joseph." Saint Joseph was the patron saint of fathers, and Aramis had chosen his monastic name for that very reason.

The brown eyes staring back at the abbot were earnest. "I have vowed to dedicate my life to God, and I am a man of my word."

"I do not doubt your intentions," replied the monk kindly. "But obedience is one of the three vows of our order, along with conversion and stability. Obedience allows for us to cultivate an appropriate sense of humility—to think neither more—nor less—of ourselves than who we are. And stability requires a commitment to this monastery for the rest of your life. Do you truly believe this is what you want to do?"

"I know this is the path God has ordained for me," answered Aramis, his voice fervent. For the umpteenth time since he came to the monastery, his hand automatically went to reach for the Queen's crucifix that had hung around his neck, and came up empty.

The monk smiled, his expression thoughtful. "Your faith is commendable—but you have not answered my question."

Five practices characterized the Benedictine way of life—prayer, work, study, hospitality, and renewal. For the month of October, Aramis was charged with offering hospitality to travellers. He suspected that the abbot had chosen this for him to test his will to continue at the monastery. It was well known that the former musketeer relished the chance to work outside, especially on the beautiful fall days. Instead, he found himself working alongside Brother Jerome in the kitchens, baking bread and serving those travellers who sought lodging for a night.

Brother Jerome was a gaunt, humourless man who seemed to think that life was meant to be endured, not enjoyed. Aramis had tried making light conversation on several occasions, but each time, the monk had given him a cold stare, then returned to the task at hand.

Athos was a master of the art of conversation compared to you, thought Aramis dully. He longed for just one night at the Wren with Porthos at his side. In the past, they had whiled away innumerable hours at their customary table, often indulging in one of their favorite pastimes—observing strangers and speculating about the stories of their lives.

So when a man appeared at the monastery late one evening, covered in dust from the road, Aramis found himself eyeing his clothes and manner. He noticed the fleur-de-lis on his horse's bridle just as the animals was led away by another monk, who appeared less than enthusiastic about working with horses. _You have no idea how lucky you are. I would trade you my post in the kitchen in an instant._

"You are in the King's service, Monsieur?" Aramis asked, making polite conversation as he served the man a cold supper.

The man's dark blue eyes fastened on him. "Madame d'Artagnan was right. You _are_ observant, Brother Joseph. Or should I say Monsieur Aramis? She described you perfectly."

Aramis felt his heart begin to pound. "You know Constance? And her husband?"

He nodded. "My name is Raul Martens. I am one of the King's couriers, and am on the road to Calais. Madame d'Artagnan informed me I might find sanctuary here for the night. She also asked me to give you this." He pulled out a worn envelope from the inside of his doublet. "Apologies for the condition. I've been on the road for a week."

"It is of no consequence," Aramis replied, tucking the letter into his robes. "I thank you for your courtesy. It is rare to get any correspondence from the outside world." Although he longed to tear the letter open at that moment, he forced himself to wait until he was in the privacy of his cell.

After the Compline prayer service that evening, the monks retired to their cells. Once the door was closed, Aramis lit a candle, revealing the spare furnishings of his room. There was a bed, a low table with a few prayer books, and a small chest that contained all his worldly goods. Opening the chest, he took out his light blue sash, and ran his fingers over it lovingly. The first day at the monastery, he had packed his musketeer uniform at the very bottom of the chest, covering it with the rough woollen undergarments and the simple habits that he had been issued.

However, within a week, Aramis had dug out his sash, and put the cloth in a position where it was easily accessible. He had settled into a routine of taking it out each night and belting it around himself while he prayed for his son, the Queen, and his brothers. Once his devotions were completed, he would carefully fold the sash and return it to the wooden chest.

He curbed his impatience, and first prayed, holding the letter in his hands. When he was finally ready, he opened the envelope, and unfolded the letter. A small square of folded paper fell in into his lap, and he set it to the side for a moment.

 _Dearest Aramis,_

 _I hope that this letter finds you well and that your heart has healed somewhat. I respect your wishes to retire to the monastery, but not a day goes by that someone-Porthos, Athos, or my husband_ - _does not mention your name. We think of you often, and pray for you daily. My sister thought it might be fitting to provide a small token to remind you of those who love you_.

He thought for a moment. _**Constance has no sister. Anne. She's talking about Anne**_. He reached for the folded piece of paper, hands shaking, and opened it. A small religious medal on a leather string fell into his lap. Picking it up, he read on.

 _Michael the Archangel rescues the souls of the faithful from the power of the enemy, especially at the hour of death. Wear it in good health, and remember us always. With love, Constance._

He slipped the long chain around his neck, and held the medal in his hand. Closing his eyes, he thought of Rochefort, garrotte in hand, walking towards Anne as she knelt in prayer. The terror he had felt at that moment, instead of paralyzing him, had served to focus his strength in a way he could not have thought possible.

Taking in a deep breath, he opened his eyes, and saw the relief of the Archangel on the front, depicted in full battle gear, with helmet, sword, and shield. He was standing over a serpent, whom he had pierced with a lance.

 _ **It was all worth it. She is safe, and so is our child.**_

 _ **THE END**_

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 **Short and sweet, but I hope you enjoyed! Let me know your thoughts if you have a moment!**

 **How many months until season 3?!**


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